


everyone must breathe

by herebedragons (babybirdblues)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Future Fic, Multi, Other, Post Apocalypse, Rough drafts, dystopian type world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/herebedragons
Summary: This is the very first draft of my original novel. From here it spiralled into 50k+ words that is still being edited and, in some parts written.





	everyone must breathe

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first draft of my original novel. From here it spiralled into 50k+ words that is still being edited and, in some parts written.

Maël would be more at ease with the rush of life that normally occupies E-seven.  

There is no light spilling out of windows, no deals being made in secret corners, no voices echoing through the winding alleys.  On a normal day, it would be a happy chance — it’s so much easier to spot a person out to rob you in the emptiness, easier to see where the Government Dogs are and where to avoid them.  Today is not a happy chance.  Today is a cause for worry.

And worry Maël does.

Because what this little group of protest and false hope is doing will get them all killed.  It is best hidden in crowded rooms, whispered under bright laughter, left through actions and denial.

How long until the System notices?  How long until they’re shut down?

There is no way that this group of children —   _“We can change this world!  Thanh believes this and you should see what changes when Thanh believes in it.”_  — can destroy more than a thousand years worth of human evolution, human history.

It’s not possible.

Not when the World Government has the System.

(Really, it’s too bad that people will never learn of them.  Because this will fail.)

Truth be told, Maël doesn’t even know how he ended up here.  How he ended up staying.

_He does though.  There are memories in the back of his mind — stumbling through the streets, clutching a heavy proof bottle of alcohol, finding the only bar with warm lights still spilling from the windows.  They — all of them, nir, the entire group, nir — were just so bright.  Brighter than even the fire in the hearth — the one the barkeep dropped Maël in front of with a sigh and a command to sober up.  
He had no hope of escaping — moth to a flame._

 

Sighing, he lets his head fall back wards, only to cringe as it collides with the wall.  
These meetings are all vocal, no link-ups in sight.  It is good for Maël — who cannot link-up to save his life — but tedious.  Their fearless leader —

_“Thanh.  That is what you can call me.  I do not answer to anything other than that, especially not, Spitfire.”_

— doesn’t trust any but nir close companions.  Ne believes that some Government Dog would be able to link-up with them from a building close by.  Ne refuses to let something so reckless be the thing that does them in.

It’s a good thing they have Leon on watch — because fuck if the rest of them are subtle.  As if on cue a shriek — echoes by a sharp pang of anger — flows between the bodies to Maël’s pained ears.  

The backroom of Rusty’s was only created for so many people — it should not, and does not, comfortably fit twenty-something people, plus furniture.  In truth, Maël’s fairly certain the backroom was created for storage.  However, Tina remodelled a year or so ago, allowing the use of the backroom for meetings.  She just didn’t take into account the vibrant personalities of her most valued customers.  

By the Creators, Makana must count for five people alone.

Poor Phillipe — Makana’s victim of the night — scowls at the woman across xir lap.  Nir voice, now not crying in shock, does not carry over to Maël.  But, from the look of fear and horror — on Makana’s voice, mind — he can imagine that Phillipe is responding to her unsanctioned attack on xir person with some impromptu body poetry.  Phillipe has the most wonderfully creative mind when it comes to bodily threats.  Maël cannot bring himself to ask his friend where the inspiration comes from.

When the door opens and Thanh strides in, Maël does not stare.  He has more self control than that —

_“I am merely watching the show Sven!  Cannot miss the chance for our fearless leader to scold someone else.”_

— truly.  For the moment ne appears to be content to watch them.  It’s one of those nights.

Those nights are wonderful.  Maël can drink himself into tomorrow and not worry about a thing.  In fact, he might even get into an argument-debate with Thanh — on those nights it is almost as if it is not painful.  As if he’s not staring into a burning inferno that will someday be his death.

Regardless, tonight Maël can curl further into his seat, bottle tucked tight in his fist.  Later, Dimitrios and Leon will ensure he returns whole to his apartment.  The two are kind enough to keep his home, his sanctuary a secret between the three of them.  Truly, they are fantastic friends.  He will have to remember to save them one of his old proof wines.  Not the cheap kind that is in production now.  No, the kind that was created before your mind could leave it’s mortal shell.

Not that this kind is not good.  Maël quite enjoys drinking it.  It’s just, the now-a-days alcohol always takes more of to have the desired effects.

His current bottle just barely grazes his lips when the room descends into silence.

A soundless sigh escapes his lips.  Maël cannot resist temptation; his eyes trail up, only to stop dead on Thanh.

Maël stares.  He cannot help it.  It is against all better judgement that he cannot draw his gaze from Thanh.  It is almost as if there is a light shining from the depths of nir soul.  His bottle drifts down to rest against Maël’s thigh.  He finds it lucky that everyone else is just as focused on Thanh.  If anyone were to look at Maël, he would be hard pressed to explain the look of wanthatelovedespair on his face.  He cannot even begin to place it into words.

Thanh begins nir speech, and Maël is lost.

It is only sheer stubborn will and the ability to deny what is right in front of him, that Maël does not realize he is just as much in the attention of the rest of his friends.  They see him falling into the relentless force of gravity that is Thanh.  Many of them are unsure if they should help, or what they help should be.

“We are the future, my friends.”  Thanh’s words are a mere whisper, yet everyone can hear them clearly.  Ne moves through the press of bodies, touch light and fleeting.  “What we start here, have started here, will lead to paths for our siblings.  No longer will they have to suffer in the Lowers, no longer will they be considered the dregs of society.”

Thanh’s lips curl tight, even as nir eyes brighten.  “The high echelons of the World Government will soon know what it is to have nothing.  To have to take abuse from someone else, to have to suffer their entire lives.  As soon as we have confirmation that they have convicted our General — we start our revolution.”

Oh.

Maël can feel the bottle slipping from his grasp.  He can do nothing about it.

To think, today began like most days.

_“You’re drunk, May.”  
Drunk is always a good time, my dear friends._


End file.
